


Touch

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alrighty it's finals week and I'm writing a/b/o fic, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Omega Dean Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, seriously please heed that warning, this is my life these are my choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 16:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean still has heats in Hell.
Relationships: Alastair/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20
Collections: anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I Googled things I never, ever wanted to Google for this fic. Particularly in my parents’ house.  
> So, uh. I’ve written smut exactly one (1) time before. Hopefully I didn’t screw up too massively.  
> I'm the same anon as the writer of "105" so if you like this, you might like that. (More Dean angst regarding sex.)  
> No idea on updates, they'll either be daily or... not. Feel free to poke me if it's been more than a few weeks.  
> Okay. Onto descriptions:  
> Rated explicit for sex and mature content.  
> Warnings for (deep breath): rape both on and off-screen, torture (briefly), sexual torture (extended), PTSD, terrible coping mechanisms, implied/referenced underage prostitution (very briefly), involuntary drug use.

Dean still has heats in Hell. 

That makes Dean laugh, the first time Alastair tells him. Because wanting to get fucked? Not exactly on the same level as getting your kneecaps pried off with a serrated blade. 

Or so Dean thought. 

Dean’s first heat with Alastair, the demon straps him to a breeding bench and lets any demon who wants to fuck him. Dean tells himself he can handle it. It’s just sex. Painful, humiliating sex that kills him a few times, sure, but Dean manages to get off a few times between getting torn up and it’s not any worse than the rack. 

(If, when he’s in his right mind again, the memory of his orgasms while speared on demon dick make him want to die, well. 

He already did.)

His second heat, Alastair strings Dean up, shoves a specially-molded vibrating dildo into him, and leaves him there. 

Dean loses count of the times he comes. He just knows that after the first few times his body moves from _pleasegoodmore_ to _toomuchstop_ , and that it doesn’t stop. 

By the time Alastair comes back, Dean’s sobbing and writhing as slick drips down his thighs.

But he doesn’t say yes.

Alastair watches dispassionately as Dean comes again, Dean’s cock dribbling a few droplets onto Hell’s floor. Then Alastair steps forward and pulls the dildo out with a sick squelching noise. 

Dean moans at the movement, limbs twitching as he becomes accustomed to the sudden emptiness in his ass and the lack of stimulation. He isn’t empty for long, though, because Alastair shoves his way into Dean’s body in one harsh thrust. 

Dean tries not to scream, but the noise rips its way out of his throat anyway. 

“You can go back to the rack,” Alastair says, “when you come on my cock.”

Dean’s begging by the time he comes again. Alastair grunts, jerks his hips once, twice, and comes inside of Dean. 

Dean doesn’t know how to name the sound he hears himself make at the sensation of Alastair’s come spilling inside of him.

The demon pulls out rough, of course. Dean yelps and waits to be put back on the rack with something like relief.

Instead of returning him to his usual spot, though, Alastair pats his ass and begins to push something else inside of Dean. Dean tries to yank himself away but can only manage a weak twitch of his hips. 

Alastair shushes Dean like a nervous horse. “It’s alright, Dean-o, this one won’t make you make those lovely noises. It’s just to keep you nice and full until I feel like filling you up some more.”

Dean’s third heat in Hell, Alastair starts trying to make it hurt. 

It just gets worse from there. 

Dean still has heats, after Hell.

When it starts to hit, Dean’s in the driver’s seat of the Impala with his brother going through Ohio. Dean doesn’t notice anything until Sam turns down Black Sabbath. 

“What?” Dean snaps, shooting a glare at his brother. 

Sam’s nostrils flare. “Dean, you’re…”

Dean sniffs the air and smells the telltale scent of his own slick. He screeches out of the left lane and onto the shoulder. A chorus of horns erupt from behind him. Dean doesn’t give a damn. 

He shoves the Impala into park, opens his door, and throws up. 

“Jesus, Dean, what--?” Sam reaches out for Dean’s arm, probably to keep him from falling headlong into traffic.

Dean’s brain says _SamSamSammy_. Dean’s instincts say _no_. He compromises.

“ _Don’t fucking touch me_ ,” Dean snarls. Sam pulls his hand back like he’s been burned. 

On the inhale, Dean smells his own arousal, and he vomits again. Sam hovers but doesn’t touch, which is good, considering how on edge Dean is.

Eventually, Dean manages to stop heaving. 

Dean spits a few times and rummages around for his water bottle to rinse his mouth out. 

“Dean,” Sam says. He’s using his _traumatized victim, must not intimidate_ voice. 

“Sam,” Dean mimics. “I’m fine.” He tells himself his voice isn’t shaking-- and that his hands, as he pours water into his mouth, aren’t shaking either. 

Sam shuts up. 

Dean swishes, spits, and says, “You’re driving.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” 

Sam hesitates once he’s in the driver’s seat and Dean’s in the backseat. “You sure you’re okay?”

Since Dean can’t say _the last time I was in heat, I spent it getting fucked by Hell’s best torturer_ , he says, “Yes.”

They hole up in a hotel room outside Toledo. Dean spends the first few hours desperately trying not to touch himself. The way Sam’s distress and confusion is filling the room makes it harder to focus on self-control. 

“Dean, just go jerk off in the shower or something. Why are you--”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

Dean cracks at hour four. “Sammy, I’m gonna need you to--”

“Yep.” Sam springs to his feet. “I’ll be next door.”

The moment Sam is out the door, Dean shoves two fingers up his ass and starts stroking his cock hard enough to hurt. 

_That’s it, Dean-o, just like that. So easy for me, nice and wet and open--_

Dean comes hard and he hates himself for it. 

Sam brings food and toys half an hour later. Dean can’t keep the food down after he sees the toys. 

Three days after it starts, Dean’s heat breaks. He’s weak enough he can barely stand-- too much sweating, not enough food or water-- but he takes a long shower, gets dressed for the first time in days, and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it immediately. “You good to go?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaks. He clears his throat. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Sam nods.

Dean feels his second heat after Hell coming on before it starts. He waits until Sam’s gone for the night, doing whatever it is he thinks he’s keeping a secret, then heads to the nearest bar.

When he walks in, almost every head swivels towards him. Dean scans the room and heads towards a table in the back corner with two alphas who will almost certainly hurt him seated at it. 

“You looking for company?” Dean asks, flashing the smile he learned outside truck stops when he was sixteen. 

If they weren’t before, they are now. 

One of them drives while the other one fingers Dean until he’s whimpering and gushing slick. Dean doesn’t bother to differentiate between the two of them. They have knots and that’s all he cares about. 

“You like that, baby?” the one in the backseat asks as his fingers brush Dean’s prostate and he jerks. “God, you’re just fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?”

_You just can’t help yourself, can you, Dean-o?_

Dean tries to pull away. The alpha laughs and presses his fingers against Dean’s prostate hard enough to make Dean’s vision white out.

Between the three orgasms and the desperation, Dean doesn’t know how long the drive takes. He comes back to himself long enough to think about how worried Sam will be when they half-carry him into a motel room. 

Then Dean’s on a bed, and someone’s fucking him hard, and he stops thinking.

When one of the men says, “Let’s see if that hole can take two at once, pretty boy,” Dean stirs enough to say, “No.”

They ignore him and pin his hands above his head. Dean starts fighting out of instinct. All it does is make them cuff him to the headboard. 

When Dean manages to nail one of the alphas in the groin with his foot, they pinch his nose shut and pour pills and water into his mouth. Dean chooses to swallow instead of choke. 

One of the alphas shoves back into Dean. Dean tries to move away, but the man drapes himself over Dean’s body and pins him down harder. The weight presses Dean’s cock harder into the sheets and he whines, grinding his hips into the pressure as best he can.

Things get even more hazy after that. 

Dean’s pretty sure he’s hard from the point they drug him until a few hours after Sam busts down the door and shoots the two men in the head. 

Dean’s aware enough to register the gunshots and the strangely reassuring smell of Sam in all his righteous alpha fury. 

Sam wraps Dean in a sheet and picks him up with a grunt. Dean squirms against his brother. 

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean. I got you.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“I know, Dean.” Sam gets him into the backseat of the Impala. 

“I didn’t want to.” Dean might be crying. He’s not sure. “They tore me apart last time they did two at once. It hurt.”

Sam drops the keys. 

After a long pause, Sam turns the engine over. The rumble of the Impala almost covers up Sam’s low voice. “Were they wearing condoms?”

“Dunno.” 

Dean curls up on himself and passes out to the sound of Sam swearing. 

When Dean wakes up, his head hurts like it hasn’t since he was sixteen and didn’t know how to pace himself yet. 

“‘ammy?”

“I’m here, Dean.” Sam’s voice is tight. “You’re in the hospital.”

That removes some of the mental fog. “What? Sam--”

“I couldn’t figure out what they gave you,” Sam says with forced calm. “Cas wasn’t answering my calls. They had to do some tests. And you didn’t let them do a rape kit.”

“Wasn’t rape.”

Dean smells Sam’s anger before he hears it. “What the fuck else would you call it?”

“Sex.”

“You said you didn’t want--”

“I knew what I was getting into.”

“Did you, Dean? Did you really? Did you ask for them to--”

Dean snaps. “You ever been fucked with a knife, Sam?”

Sam’s scent goes from angry to horrified. “What?”

“You ever had someone stick a knife up your ass and fuck you with it and make you get off on it?”

“Dean--”

“Answer the damn question, Sam.”

“You know the answer is no. You’d have killed anybody who did that to me,” Sam says. 

“Damn right.” Dean takes a moment to remember where his train of thought was going. “Look-- that’s rape. Some alphas getting a little too rough with you in heat? That’s sex.”

Sam stands up and walks out of the room. 

They try and give him counseling. Dean refuses to talk to anyone they send. 

Sam smuggles him out of the hospital once they get clean test results. 

Sam tries to talk about it. Dean tells him to fuck off. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hand waves timeline because I didn’t plan this out very well*  
> (… there’s angst, do we really need a timeline?)  
> Also: no mpreg in this verse. I’d swear on a bible but I’m pretty sure it would burst into flames.  
> Short chapter, I know. Next one should be longer. And probably much more explicit.

The night after he gets out of the hospital, Dean breaks into a pharmacy and steals three months’ worth of the strongest suppressants available. They’re the ones that are reserved for the omegas whose heats are dangerous to their health. Suppressants don’t stop heats entirely, but they space them out a lot more, and the ones Dean steals will keep him functional until the world decides if it’s going to end or not. 

Dean doesn’t tell Sam. He pops the pills in the bathroom. 

Dean tells Sam it was forty years. He tells Sam that they ripped him apart. He tells Sam that he broke. 

He doesn’t tell Sam how his body betrayed him. If Sam figures it out on his own, he’s smart enough not to ask. 

Alastair breaks free, knocks Cas out, and has Dean pressed up against a wall before Dean can convey to his body that he should be running.

“Oh, Dean,” Alastair murmurs, his hand digging into Dean’s wrists. “ I heard all about your little adventure. Two at once, huh? Such a slut.” His tone is almost fond. “And you used to scream so pretty about that sort of thing.”

“Fuck you,” Dean manages to spit out. 

“Guess I need to remind you that I’m not the bitch in this relationship.”

Dean lashes out as hard as he can with his foot. Alastair doesn’t even flinch. 

“Stay still,” the demon orders. His hand squeezes Dean’s wrists hard enough that Dean can feel bones grating. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up just like I used to.”

Dean’s whole body shudders before going limp. He knows it will still hurt, but if he’s relaxed, it will hurt a little less. 

Dean’s wrists are bound behind his back with his belt; Alastair’s draped over Dean’s back with one hand down the front of Dean’s jeans; Dean is half-hard and trying desperately not to get harder. He’s not fighting, though. He doesn’t remember how to fight Alastair anymore.

“Cas,” he says. The angel stays crumpled in the corner. “Cas, come on--”

Alastair’s hand squeezes painfully hard on Dean’s dick. “Mouth shut unless you want something in--” 

Sam bursts into the room and tosses Alastair across the room with a wave of his hand. 

Dean’s brain takes a moment to come back online. When it does, he’s curled up with his shoulders against a wall. Dean curses himself for it, but all he can do is watch as his brother kills Alastair. 

Sam’s nostrils flare as he turns away from the demon’s body. Dean inhales for what feels like the first time in hours, searching for whatever his brother is smelling. 

He smells his own slick.

He looks at Alastair’s dead body and starts laughing. 

Dean comes back to himself curled up in the bottom of the hotel shower. Dean sniffs but can’t smell anything but cheap soap. He still scrubs his body until his skin turns red. 

Dean still doesn’t feel clean, but he knows from experience he won’t for a long time, so he gets out of the shower. 

Sam’s waiting for him. 

“I’m not talking about it,” Dean tells his brother. 

“Okay.” 

“... Okay?”

“You’re not talking about Hell,” Sam says, echoing a conversation Dean’s done his best to forget about. “And I’m not pushing.”

Dean gets into the bed closest to the door without another word.

He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time. When he does, Cas is waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would anyone be willing to beta/let me bounce ideas off of them for this story? I have a vague plan but someone to help me figure out specifics-- and how to write smut-- would be very helpful. Hit me up on Tumblr at crucifixinhell if you’d be willing :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crucifixinhell on Tumblr.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and I love hearing from y'all! :)


End file.
